


Apologies Are Empty Words

by thisisallivegot



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dark, FrostIron - Freeform, IronFrost - Freeform, M/M, Post-Avengers, Rating will go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisallivegot/pseuds/thisisallivegot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki had been sitting in the cell for so long that he had given up any hope of escape or rescue. Everything changed when he looked up to see Tony Stark standing outside his cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope Does Not Come With Explanations

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a prologue, and chapters will get longer. Enjoy!

Madness isn't what he had expected. It isn't red hot and raving and  _lunatic_ and cackling and talking out of his head. It isn't screaming and beating his fists against the walls and lying and choking on his own tears. It isn't loud and _get away from me_ and angry and hated and wordless. It isn't thunderstorms or hurricanes or tropical downpours. It isn't _please god, just listen_ or stubbornness or stupidity or ignorance. It isn't flashy and deep red and fragmented and sharp.

 

It is cold. Deep and shattered and _frozen_  and the slightest flick of his eyes to the left.It is _not caring_.It is silence and insomnia and an empty gaze and  _nothing_. It is a rage so deep that his bones soak in it, but it can never rise to the surface. It is perfect clarity, deathly calm, all-too-smart and understanding and unnoticed. It is  _broken_.

After _307 meals, 29 total hours screaming_ ,and  _45 (since-healed) self-inflicted wounds_ in this cell, Loki is sure that he knows what insanity is. It is  _acceptance_.

_Stomp, stomp, stomp_ footfalls in the outer hallways. Mealtime, then. No reaction. No concern. Stomp, stomp. _Silence._ He waits for the food to be pressed through the bars of his cell, the same way it always is, but it doesn't come. Slowly, he looks up. His thoughts are unhurried.  _Not a guard._  Recognition. _Tony Stark? Why?_

**  
**

“Let's go.”

 

 

Loki cocks his head to the side imploringly. He has vague, muted feelings about Tony's presence here – surprise, confusion, anticipation. But not hope, because ( _n. a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen_ ) that kind of thing doesn't exist for him anymore.

**  
**

“Thank you, Stark.” His voice grates, broken and raw from _too long_ without being used. There are probably a hundred other questions that he could ( _should?_ ) be asking, but this comes first, because above all else, he will not be  _rude_.

**  
**

Tony nods at him mutely, but doesn't comment. Loki stares at him for a moment longer before letting his magic gather and teleporting out of the cell. He will figure out the meaning of this soon, but for now, all that matters is _escape_.


	2. They Have Made Fools Of Us

_Loki heard footsteps echo down the hallway and cringed back against the cold stone wall despite his efforts not to. Despite what the myths said, even Gods were not invincible, and enough torture would be enough to break anyone. Loki wasn't broken yet, but he knew that it was only a matter of time. He steeled himself, biting back the fear, and assured himself that day would not be today. By the time his captors reached the bars of his cell, Loki had plastered a confident smile on his face._

_“Good evening, gentlemen.”_

_The taller of the two men grinned widely at him, showing his teeth. “Did ya miss us?”_

_Loki suppressed a twitch. “I am accustomed to solitude”, he answered, hedging the question._

_“That's too bad”, said the other guard, wringing his hands together in excitement. “I was under the impression that we all enjoyed our time here together.”_

_Loki nearly rolled his eyes. “I must say, I've had better companionship.”_

_The guards chuckled, then began unlocking the cell. Loki's eyes flitted toward the opening, but he knew better than to try and run. He had attempted it many times before, and each unsuccessful attempt led to particularly unsavory consequences. Instead, he took a step back, away from the approaching men._

_“If you don't want us here, you could always just ask us to leave.”_

_Loki's mind rebelled at the idea. The guards were within reach by now, and he smiled blandly at them, then spit in the closest guard's face. He had only a moment to hear a growl of rage before the first punch came._

 

XxXxX

 

Loki awoke suddenly, his mind quickly assessing the situation before his eyelids opened. _Concrete against my back, warm, bright, loud._ He opened his eyes to find sunlight shining down at him. He blinked twice, quickly, trying to figure out where he was. The dream had left him shaken, and now he fought down panic at his unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up and was pleasantly surprised to find that his body didn't protest at the movement. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been sore. In fact, he mused, he almost felt...good. 

He nearly gasped aloud as the memories of the previous night flooded him. He was out of the cell. He was free. Tony Stark had saved him. He reached inward toward his power and found the well of it deep, pure, and most importantly, _free_. He realized belatedly that his restored magic was likely what had healed his various wounds, and he smiled softly to himself, the first real smile he had managed since his capture. Now that he was fully aware, the feeling of his magic flowing through his body was blissful, almost drug-like. He had missed that feeling more than anything, and now that it had been returned to him, it was as if a part of himself had been restored. He felt whole. 

He pushed himself off of the ground, intending to find out his location. He remembered teleporting out of his cell last night, but he hadn't been in his right mind and the magic had been haphazard – he had no idea where he had ended up. He was lucky that he had managed to stumble into an alley-way last night before he collapsed; it had provided safety long enough for him to sleep and let his healing magic do it's work. 

He stood and brushed the dirt off clothes. He was filthy, he knew. His captors hadn't allowed him to bathe often, and while he wasn't sure how long it had been, it was certainly longer than he would have liked. With more effort than usual, he reached for his magic and used it to clean himself and replace his armor. Its familiar weight was comforting to him, and he allowed himself another small smile. 

Walking out of the alley that he had found himself in, he glanced around the street. The sun was high, indicating that it was about noon, and the city was milling with people and cars rushing past. It took only a few moments deduction before he knew that he was still in New York. He looked up at the buildings around him and saw an especially tall one in the distance – one which held the word Stark. He nearly backed away from it, before convincing himself that that would be childish and unnecessary. 

He went to turn the opposite way of the tower, but he hesitated. He remembered the look on Stark's face from the night before, and the rough tone of his voice when he had offered him his freedom. He did not understand his motives, and that bothered him. It was much more difficult to fight something that you didn't understand, and while Loki did owe him a debt now, Stark was still his enemy. He needed to get more intel. Still, going to the tower would be suicide, he knew. The Avengers were in residence there, and that green beast would rip him apart, likely without even giving him a chance to go back to his cell in the S.H.I.E.L.D prison. 

Whatever he did, he knew he couldn't stay here, standing in the street. It couldn't have been that long since his failed invasion of this planet, and the people here would surely remember him. In fact, some of those surrounding him were beginning to point and whisper now. He really should have known better than to put on his armor in public. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a quick spell to make himself unnoticeable. He wasn't invisible, exactly, but as long as he didn't draw attention to himself, other people wouldn't pay him any mind. With that in place, he cast another spell to change his appearance. The basic features stayed the same – deep black hair, and green eyes – but he didn't look like _Loki_ anymore, which was the idea. 

His freedom was beginning to seem like a lot more work than it had seemed at first. He hadn't expected to be able to escape, at least not any time soon, and thus didn't have any plans for what to do now. Loki always had plans, and more plans, and back-up plans for those. He disliked the feeling of not knowing what to do next.

Taking a deep breath, he contemplated his options. The viable ones were piteously few. He could go back to the alley that he had woken up in, but that was undesirable, and did nothing to help his cause. He could try to find Thor, but he didn't want to see his so-called-brother, who had left him to rot in that place. He could find himself a more permanent place of residence on this realm, which did seem like a logical option. His magic was still too depleted to allow him to travel anywhere off-realm, and since he had no intentions of going back to S.H.I.E.L.D, he would need a place to stay. He did not, however, know how to go about procuring a dwelling. That only left one real option. Going to see Stark.

 

XxXxX

 

Tony waited. He watched the news, watched the world fall apart piece by piece, channel by channel, death and rage and chaos abound without their precious superheroes there to protect them. He felt no sympathy; no pity or anger or _anything_ for these people, these screaming, writhing, trapped souls. He watched, and he waited.

Waited for the inevitable fall of the Council, those pathetic, scared little _children_ who had turned against their own heroes, their _saviours_. Dangerous and unruly, they had called them, unpredictable and out of control. All of them dead now, victims of cowardice, except for himself, too intelligent to be brought down by such a poorly thought-out plan, and Bruce, the pacifist doctor who would rather spend his whole life on the run than stand and fight.

Tony didn't have that problem, not anymore. Not after he had lost his friends ( _again),_ his teammates, _Pepper_. He watched, and he waited, and he considered a certain Norse God that had previously been held in a cell in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D, and how maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so wrong. Sane, no, never that, but sanity wasn't something that the world had an abundance of lately, and maybe sanity was the opposite of what they needed now. 

He had thought as much when he had broken into S.H.I.E.L.D (too easy) and released the prisoner from his cell. He couldn't have been sure what Loki would do once free, but he had heard the God's rhetoric (his _logic,_ because yes, they were all beneath him, beneath _them_ ), and he had ideas, but he couldn't know. The Trickster was nothing if not unpredictable. Tony had, however, expected him to teleport away as soon as he was able, so that was no surprise. What he would do from here was anyone's guess.

Tony didn't care. He was ready to watch this world _burn_. He waited.


	3. First Impressions are Deceiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shows up at Stark tower to have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties with the general appearance of Stark tower, because I'm the writer, and I can do that. 
> 
> A huge thank you to constancebonacieux for beta-ing this work for me!

 If he had wanted to, Loki could have teleported into Stark tower. It was far more convenient, and it was generally his preferred method of travel, but due to various reasons, it wasn't currently practical. First, it was always risky to teleport into a place one was unfamiliar with, and he had only seen the penthouse once, and even then, it had been under the haze of Thanos’s control. Second, teleportation required a significant amount of magic, and his store was still somewhat depleted. He had an ample amount with which to defend himself if he were attacked; even so, he was acutely aware that he was walking into an enemy stronghold, and he wouldn't use any magic that he didn't have to. For this one trip, he would have to settle for traveling the conventional way.

It wasn't that long of a walk, but he took his time. He would never admit it, but he was slightly nervous to arrive. He didn't understand Stark's motives for releasing him from his cell, and that made him wary. As someone whose most powerful weapon was his mind, it was important for him to understand other people, especially those who were enemies – their personality, their thoughts, their emotions, what they felt strongly about. From the beginning, he had never understood those things about Stark. He was simple on the surface, sure, but Loki hadn't gotten to where he was by underestimating people; he knew that Stark was far more than what he appeared to be. The problem was that he wasn't sure what he was underneath the mask. That lack of understanding made him dangerous, and despite his seemingly helpful gesture, Loki still considered him an adversary. So far, he hadn't been given enough reason not to.

No matter how slowly he walked, he still made it to his destination within the hour. He approached the front gate, then frowned at it, unsure of what to do. He wasn't sure which of the Avengers would be present, or where they would be in the tower. He assume that none of them, save possibly Stark, would welcome him. He wanted to avoid a fight if at all possible. He could teleport inside, but didn't want to for the same reasons that he hadn't teleported here in the first place. That left him with very few options. He decided upon the most direct route, and pushed the button to activate the intercom by the gate. He was still wearing the glamour over his appearance, and he could pretend to be someone else until he got Stark alone.

There was the crackle of static for a moment before a polite British voice came through the intercom speaker. “How may I help you?”

“I'm here to speak with Mr. Stark.”

“Is Mr. Stark expecting you?”

Loki hesitated for a moment while he mulled over his answer. “Yes, he is.”

“And may I ask your name?”

“It's Luke.”

“Very well. One moment please.”

The voice was quite for what Loki estimated to be approximately two minutes. He shifted his weight between his feet, going back over the conversation in his mind and trying to figure out if and when he had made a mistake. Would Tony insist that he hadn't been expecting anyone, and refuse to grant him entry? Would he realize that it was Loki, and tell the Avengers, giving them time to prepare to defeat him? There were far too many variables that he didn't know. He was about to leave when the voice spoke again.

“Thank you for your patience, sir. Mr. Stark has instructed me to let you inside.”

The gates began to swing inward, and Loki raised an eyebrow. Apparently he hadn't made as much of a mess of this as he thought. He walked through the gates, and the front door opened at his approach. He walked through the doorway, hesitating once he was inside, unsure of where he was supposed to go from here. The voice from the intercom spoke again.

“Mr. Stark has asked that you meet him on the 54th floor. He asked me to specify that this meeting would be private, between only the two of you. You'll find an elevator directly to your right.”

Loki spun, trying to find the source of the voice. “Who's there? Show yourself!”

The voice sounded slightly amused. “My name is JARVIS, sir. I am artificial intelligence created by Mr. Stark. I run his household and take care of him.”

Loki pressed his lips together, but didn't speak further until he was nearly to the elevator. “Thank you...JARVIS, was it?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark is waiting for you.”

The elevator doors opened without his command, and he stepped inside warily. There were no buttons to press, and he stared at the wall in confusion for a moment, before the machine began to move on its own. He had been in elevators before, and he was fairly certain that this was not how they were supposed to operate. However, he knew that Stark was supposedly more technologically advanced than his fellow humans, so it made sense that he would have an updated system. He only hoped that he hadn't stepped into a small metal trap.

That fear was assuaged when the elevator doors opened with a quiet ding. He stepped out of the box, his quick mind taking in all of his surroundings. He was in a large room, with a bar at the far end. There was a television set, with various seating surrounding it. Most importantly, Stark himself sat on a stool in front of the bar, nursing a glass of what he assumed to be alcohol. He raised it in greeting.

“So. Luke.”

Loki smiled charmingly. “Mr. Stark. It’s so good to see you. Where are your…coworkers?”

Tony’s grin, in return, could only be described as shark-like. “I’m not aware of Dr. Banner’s whereabouts. He’s not exactly easy to find these days.”

He nodded. “And the others?”

The inventor’s tone was emotionless. “Dead.” Loki’s eyebrows rose without his consent, but the engineer continued before he could comment. “It’s been all over the news, of course. I can’t believe that you wouldn’t have heard about that.”

“I haven’t watched much television lately,” he replied truthfully.

Tony chuckled mirthlessly. “No, I wouldn’t suppose you have.” He took a large gulp of the drink in his hand. “Now, Luke,” he spat the name, “how about we end the pleasantries?”

Loki allowed the illusion to slip away and stood before the other man in his usual form. “As you wish.”

Tony took another deep drink from the glass in his hand before sitting it down heavily on the counter, the ice inside clinking noisily. He tilted his head slightly, his only acknowledgment of his visitor’s changed appearance. “Right then, Loki - it is Loki, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve been called many different things over the years, but Loki is my given name.” Unbidden, his mind flashed back to his birth father, and he wondered what _he_ had named him, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come; it was irrelevant now.

“And Luke?”

“It didn’t seem wise for the God of Mischief to walk so blatantly into your tower.”

Tony nodded, but gestured to the rest of the room. “An understandable move, but as you can see, I’m the only one here.”

“I also wasn’t sure you would allow me inside, if I showed my true form,” Loki admitted.

“I knew who you were the moment you stepped onto my property. JARVIS scans all life forms on the premises and reports to me immediately.”

“Then the interview at the gate was unnecessary?”

“Standard. I don’t let just anyone through, of course. But I was expecting you.”

“Whatever for?”

“You tell me. What are you here for?”

“Well, Mr. Stark-”

“Call me Tony.”

“…Mr. Stark, I have a few questions for you.”

Tony stood and walked behind the bar, refilling his drink. “May I offer you one?”

“No, thank you. Your Midgardian alcohols have very little effect on me, and I’m not fond of the taste.”

“Suit yourself.” He sat back down at the bar, re-filled drink in hand, and gestured for his guest to take a seat on a stool near him. Once Loki obliged, he continued. “What do you want to know?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments - let me know what you like and what you don't. Constructive criticism is welcome.


	4. This Is How We'll Dance When They Try to Take Us Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony explains himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Parmore song "Let the Flames Begin".
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta constancebonacieux.

 The air was still between them for several long moments as the god stared at him, trying to understand the things he left unsaid. The billionaire had a poker face that could rival his own, and he conceded to himself after a moment that he would not get the information he sought simply by observation. “There are…many questions that I would ask of you, Man of Iron.”

Tony smiled, the expression hollow and self-deprecating. “Yeah, many people would. The difference is, I’m willing to give you some answers, provided you can give me a bit more specification.”

That, he could do. He started with the most pressing of his queries. “Why?”

“Okay, that’s actually the opposite of specific.”

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, but he did narrow his question. “Why did you break me out of my cell? Out of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Tony shrugged. “Who’s to say that I was breaking you out? It’s possible that your release was fully sanctioned, and I was the one chosen to open your cell.”

“It was not.”

The shorter man tilted his head in agreement. “No, it wasn’t. I freed you because… Hm.” He hesitated. “There are a lot of reasons, I suppose.”

The Aesir bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep his patience. When he spoke, his voice was level. “I would like to hear them, Stark.”

“It took me awhile, I’ll admit, but I finally hacked into the camera to your humble abode. Alien terrorist or not, those guys were assholes, and I didn’t like the way they treated you.”

The God felt a flush of shame at knowing that this man had borne witness to his humiliation in that cage. He had wept and cowered and begged for death, and this mortal had seen it all. That alone was reason enough to kill him where he sat. But still…he had saved him. And he said there were more reasons for his actions. It was true, that Loki wanted to hear them. He gestured for him to continue. He could always choose to kill him after he finished speaking.

“There’s also the fact that I disliked S.H.I.E.L.D on a good day, and then…” His sentence trailed off.

“Then?” Loki prompted him, leaning forward in interest.

Stark’s grin was predatory. “They hurt some people very dear to me.”

The man’s tone was cold, and Loki could tell that it was not a wound he should be chipping at right now. He was tempted to poke, to prod at it, as was his nature, but he had more important things to deal with at the moment. He filed the information away for later. “You disliked S.H.I.E.L.D., so your act of revenge was to free their prisoner?”

“It’s more that they shouldn’t have imprisoned you in the first place, and I no longer hold the scant allegiance to them that I used to. I was correcting their mistake.”

“A mistake, you say? What makes you so sure of that?”

He didn’t answer that, instead narrowing his eyes as he considered the man before him, then asked a question of his own. “Would you like to know the last reason? The real one?”

“Of course.”

“Things have changed a lot since you’ve seen the light of day. I’ve changed. And now? Well, I think I may need to retract my opposition to your cause.”

“My cause,” he parroted absently as he thought over the man’s words. His mind had not been entirely his own during his botched attempt at conquering this realm - the scepter held more of Thanos’ sway than he had initially realized, and he had been caught up in that blue glow. Even so, his actions had been mostly his own, and he would not deny that ruling Midgard had been his goal, his _cause_ as Stark put it. He had been so sure of himself. Now this man stood before him, this man who had fought in such a unique suit of armor ( _who had fought with words, witty banter and flirting)_ and who had worked with the good guys, the _Avengers_ (who, if he were to be believed, were now dead). Why? Why would they be dead? Why would Stark still be alive? Why believe him? And why the sudden change of heart? Questions swirled through his mind like a whirlpool, each being rapidly replaced by another, none of them providing the answers to themselves.

Stark leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter in front of him. “The human race, in general, is not all that fucking great.”

Loki could not argue that point, and saw no reason to try. That did not, however, explain Stark’s unwillingness to do so. “You would condemn your own kind so easily?”

He sneered. “My kind? I hold no communion with those fools.”

“You did before,” he pointed out.

“Like I said, things have changed.”

“What things?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If that was your only question…?”

The words felt like a dismissal and Loki bristled against them. “I could kill you easily for your impudence.” He glanced toward the windows. “You’ve no way to fight me now.”

“You could. But you won’t.” He waited a moment for his words to sink in.

“Won’t I?” He stood, and moved toward the other man.

Tony stayed seated, apparently unconcerned. “No, you won’t.”

Loki brought a hand up to wrap loosely around his throat - not painfully, merely a threat, a _reminder. “_ Why ever not?”

Stark raised his chin, baring his neck farther to the God, the act one of rebellion rather than submission. He smirked at him, eyes dancing with mirth. “Because I can _help_ you.”

His words startled a bark of laughter out of Loki. “You? Help me?”

Tony wrapped a hand around the God’s wrist, pulling it away from him. Loki allowed the move, still curious about this mortal. “You tried to take this world by force, and you failed.”

“I was-”

Tony held up a hand to stop him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you have reasons and excuses and it _doesn’t matter_. It happened. You failed. But me? Oh, they’ve tried to kill me. So many of them. Super villains, robbers, the Council, S.H.I.E.L.D. They’ve thrown everything they’ve got at me, but hey.” He stood and made a slow circle, gesturing to himself. “Here I am, baby.”

“Why would your S.H.I.E.L.D. make an attempt on your life? I thought they were your comrades.”

Tony gave him that smile again - the mirthless, predatory one that Loki had to admit looked _good_ on the man. “Things have changed.”

That seemed to be becoming a refrain. “Alright, Stark. They tried and failed to kill you. What’s your point?”

“My point, my dear God of Mischief, is that you are standing inside the world’s largest empire. You are standing in front of the most intelligent man this world has ever seen. I have access to corners of this globe that most people don’t even know exist. I have thousands of people on my payroll, hundreds of those loyal to me no matter what. I have my own army, one that will not fall as easily as yours did. And oh, the offensive I have. Do you know what my nickname used to be, before all this hero business? They wrote it in newspapers like it was disgusting, but I wore it as a badge of honor. _Merchant of Death._ For most of my life, I built weapons. I got so good at it that I _became_ a weapon. And Loki Laufeyson, I am telling you that I, Tony Stark, am on your side.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments, including any constructive criticism!


	5. Grief Comes in Many Forms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta conastancebonacieux

 After a bit more discussion, it was decided that Loki would move into Stark tower. He was still skeptical about the Man of Iron’s words, but he could detect no lies in them. He did need a place of shelter, and if Stark turned out to have motives hostile to his person, he knew that he was capable of defending himself. He had to admit that Stark was proving interesting - from the first time they met, he had been appreciative of the man’s mind; if he now wanted to use that intellect to help him, he saw no reason to push him away.

He had been given his own floor, as Stark had insisted that there was plenty of space being wasted in the building. The floor was near the top of the building, two down from where Stark was staying. He had been offered the space directly beneath the man, but he insisted that he wanted a floor between them, as a safety precaution. Tony had laughed at the demand, but conceded at Loki’s insistence, waving it off as unimportant. The floor was well furnished, with two bedrooms, a large kitchen, a sitting room, and a larger bathroom than any he had seen on Asgard. He had investigated the floor thoroughly as soon as he had been directed to it, and found it satisfactory. He added his own wards of protection and those to alert him of anyone trying to enter, then sat on the couch to plan.

 

XxXx

 

Tony dreamed.

“ _Sir,” JARVIS informed him, “the Tower is surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D agents.”_

_He looked up from the project he had been working on. “Any idea why?”_

“ _No, sir.”_

“ _Ask them, will you?”_

“ _Yes, sir.”_

“ _I haven’t ignored any summons from Fury recently, have I?” Tony asked as a second thought._

“ _No, sir, none have come through.”_

“ _Right. So, what do they want?”_

“ _They say that you are under arrest and they have orders to bring you to a secure containment facility.”_

_Tony raised his eyebrows, finally laying down the circuitry board. “Did they happen to say why?”_

“ _No, sir. They are, however, insisting upon entry, and claiming that they will break in if it is not granted.”_

“ _Well, that is not going to happen. JARVIS, institute lock down procedure Alpha Two One Zula Foxtrot Eight Two Zero. While I call Fury to figure out what’s going on, I don’t want them to step even a foot closer to the tower.”_

“ _Yes, sir. Full lock down procedures are now in effect. Shall I relay a message to the men outside?”_

“ _Yeah. Tell them to get the hell off my property if they know what’s good for them.”_

“ _Yes, sir.”_

 

He awoke with a gasp and sat up in bed, staring into the darkness. “JARVIS. Lights, 40 percent.” The AI obeyed silently, and Tony cast his gaze around the now dimly lit room. Seeing nothing out of place, he settled back onto the bed, trying to regulate his breathing. That had been the beginning of this chaos. His call to Fury hadn’t given him any more information - the Director had only told him that he was being placed under arrest, and demanded that he allow the agents entry. The Tower stayed on lock down, and it wasn’t until a few days later that he got the full story when it was leaked to a news outlet. JARVIS alerted him to the story - the newscaster reading off his script that the World Council had decided the “so-called Super heroes” were in fact dangerous, and would be incarcerated pending further investigation. Tony had narrowed his eyes, knowing that in S.H.I.E.L.D speak, that meant that they were to be executed. The newscaster went on to state that Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, had been taken into custody, but the Hulk, Iron Man, and Thor were still at large. Bruce had turned down his offer to stay in the tower, and as far as Tony knew, was still running. He didn’t know Thor’s status. 

Sighing, he sat up again. He knew that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight. “Lights, 100 percent.” The lights clicked fully on with a dull hum, and he rubbed his hand over his face. He stumbled toward the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, gesturing for the lights to come on there as he did so. He stared at himself in the large mirror over the sink. His skin was pale, having been exposed to even less sunlight than it was used to; his eyes were somewhat sunken in, with dark bags beneath them; stubble had formed along the line of his jaw and he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had shaved. He couldn’t say that he really cared, but if he wanted to give even the appearance of sanity to his guest below, he thought that he should try to make himself at least somewhat presentable. He spread shaving cream over his face, then picked up his razor. As he shaved, he let himself remember the final straw, the event that had led him to freeing a dangerous criminal from his cell.

 

_It had been two months since the agents had first shown up at the tower. There had been plenty of attempts on his life since then, but he had evaded them all. He killed those who attempted it. He had told himself in a cave in Afghanistan that he would never be defenseless again, and he wasn’t. If these men were a threat to him, they would be eliminated. It was that simple. He was dozing on the couch, several drinks already in his system when the call came through. He tried to wave it off. “Later JARVIS. ’M sleeping.”_

_The AI sounded disapproving. “Sir, I would advise taking the call.”_

“ _Mm?” He mumbled. “Why?”_

“ _It’s Ms. Potts, and she seems to be quite distressed.”_

_Tony sat up, instantly awake. “Put it through, JARV.”_

_There was a quiet click, then Pepper’s voice cut through. “Tony, Tony, are you there?”_

“ _Yeah, I’m here, Pep. What’s wrong?” Stark Industries had continued even through the bullshit with the Council, and Tony knew that she had gone to an unavoidable meeting. He hadn’t wanted her to go, but he knew that it was necessary. He had sent several highly trained body guards with her, and entrusted them with his safety. Now he was regretting the decision not to go with her himself._

“ _I don’t know what’s happening! Oh my god, Tony!” She screeched into the phone._

“ _Pep! Pep, you have to tell me what’s happening.” He was already up, running toward the basement to get his suit._

“ _I don’t know.” She was sobbing into the speaker. “I don’t know who they are. The guy has this crazy suit, like yours, but bigger. They were shooting all these people. The building is in ruins, and all the body guards are dead. Oh god, Tony, please. I’m scared.”_

“ _Okay, okay, Pep. It’s alright. Just…I’m on my way. Can you get to cover? Is there anywhere that you can hide?” There was another shrill scream before the line cut off. “Shit. Fuck. JARVIS, what happened?”_

“ _I do not know, sir. I am attempting to call her back now.”_

“ _Hurry.” He let out a few more curses as the suit formed around him._

“ _I’m sorry, sir, but she is not answering the phone.”_

“ _Shit. Okay, where is she?”_

“ _I’m sorry, sir.” The AI did sound truly regretful. “The tracking device from her Starkphone has gone offline.”_

_Tony’s blood went cold. The only reason that tracker would go offline would be if the phone were destroyed.”_

_He left the tower in his suit, following the sound of explosions. It took him six minutes to find the scene, and an additional twelve sections for the HUD to zero in on Pepper’s location - on her body. A scream of rage tore through him at the same time that JARVIS informed him that he had found the assailants. Tony killed them all._

 

Shaving finished, he threw the razor down in the sink. That had been the tipping point, the one thing that he could not allow. He had stood by while they murdered his friends, and tried to murder him as well. He had stood back while the media spewed vitriol over Iron Man’s name, and said nothing. But this was it. This was the limit. Because of them, because of S.H.I.E.L.D and the Council and the stupid citizens who had allowed all this, there were no heroes left to protect the city. There were no heroes, and the villains were given free reign, opposed by only the hopelessly outmatched human police force. It was their fault, all of them, that he had lost her - _Pepper_. 

Face shaved, he stripped and stepped into the shower. JARVIS turned the water on, knowing exactly how he wanted it. As the water dripped down his skin, he shook his head to clear it. All of that was in the past. It was time to move on now, and he had decided on exactly how to do it. These fools were at fault for making him lose all that he held dear, _again_ , and they would _pay_. He would see to that, one way or another, and if he played his cards right, the God downstairs would help.

 


	6. Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki investigates the situation, and Tony...wants pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the tardiness of this chapter. I'll explain myself in more detail at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Thanks to my beta constancebonaceux.

 It had been seven days since Loki had found himself unexpectedly freed from his cell, and six days since he had confronted Stark and been invited to stay in the Tower. He had spent most of that time alone in the quarters he had been pointed toward. He wasn't actively avoiding his housemate; rather, he had spent the time running the situation through his mind from every possible angle – understanding, dissecting, and thoroughly analyzing each of them.

He had also used that time to familiarize himself with the Tower. It was a simple matter, given his magic, to move throughout the building undetected and observe the private, inner workings of not only the building itself and the machines that ran it, but also of the people inside. Despite his investigation, he had found nothing to imply that Stark had lied to him. Now, a week later, he was ready to speak to the man again.

“Computer? JARVIS, I believe?”

“Yes, Mister...I apologize profusely, sir, but I do not seem to have a definite surname for you in my memory banks.”

“Oh? What information do you have on me, then?”

“Regarding your surname, sir, I have two possibilities – Odinson and Laufeyson.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And where did you come by that information?”

“From the SHIELD databases, sir.”

He tensed imperceptibly. “Is Stark still working with them?”

He hadn't noticed any evidence of as much, but he could admit that he was not infallible. He might have missed or misinterpreted something, especially if Stark had intended to hide it from him. He was not so vain that he would underestimate the man's intelligence. Doing so, he knew, would be a possibly fatal mistake on his part. The computer's answer now could change things completely. If Stark were lying to him, if he were planning to betray him, he would slay him where he stood and feel no remorse. Practicality would always outweigh mercy in his mind. He would not allow himself to be betrayed again. He would _not_ go back to that prison.

“No, sir, quite the opposite. I also feel obligated to inform you that Master Stark would vehemently insist that he has never worked _for_ SHIELD. He has worked loosely _with_ them when it has suited his own purposes, but never _for_ them.”

“Do not mock me, computer! I will not stand for such disrespect, neither from Stark nor from his creations.”

“I apologize, sir.”

The damned machine didn't sound apologetic. In fact, if asked to describe it, Loki would say that it sounded _amused_. He grit his teeth.

“You will tell me why Stark has this information.”

“Master Stark has a habit of hacking into the SHIELD databases. Occasionally he does it because they have information that is being kept from him, but much more often, he does it for fun. Any information gained is then stored to my memory. I can assure you that any information we have gathered from SHIELD has not been with their consent. While I cannot be sure, it's possible that they do not even know that we have it.”

Loki considered that, then let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.

“Of course. Thank you, JARVIS.”

“It's my pleasure, sir.”

“Laufeyson. That is my proper surname.”

“Thank you, Mister Laufeyson. I have updated my records. Now, if I may remind you of your initial query to me...?”

“Yes. Where is Stark?”

“Master Stark is in the main kitchen on the 74th floor.”

“Is he occupied?”

“No, sir. He is not currently engaged with anything. Shall I inform him that you wish to see him?”

“Yes. I will go to him.”

There was a short pause.

“He is expecting your arrival.”

Loki nodded to himself as he entered the elevator. It began moving before he could speak and he assumed that JARVIS was taking him to Stark. He was correct, and it wasn't long before the doors opened noiselessly. He had a clear view of Stark sitting at a large circular table. He sat with his back to the god, but Loki was sure that he was well aware of his presence. He kept a respectful distance from the man as he circled around to take a seat across from him.

“Good morning, Stark.”

He lifted his mug in greeting. “Morning. Coffee?”  
“No, thank you.”

He shrugged. “Your loss. I make excellent coffee. Well, my coffee maker makes excellent coffee, but I made that, so it counts. I know there are others that would disagree, as with anything that comes out of my mouth, but as usual, they're wrong.”

Loki held back a snort. “As fascinating as your chatter is, I did seek you out to discuss a heavier topic.”

He took a long gulp from the mug, finishing his drink before replying. “Yeah, I figured, but it's generally polite to make small talk before planning world domination.”

He let out a laugh. “Of course. My apologies. I thought that was a normal breakfast topic.”

“Breakfast! I don't think I've eaten. JARVIS, when's the last time I had a meal? Coffee doesn't count.”

“Two days ago, sir.”

Tony ignored the AI's disapproving tone. “Huh. That's not too bad. But I could go for some food. How about you, Reindeer Games? I assume you take some form of sustenance besides feasting on the blood of your enemies?”

“Stark, I do not know what that term refers to, but I'm sure it is negative, and if you use it again, I will decapitate you and feed on _your_ blood for my breakfast.”

Tony lifted his hands placatingly. “Sure, Bambi.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “To answer your question, I can eat anything that mortals can, though I tend to require larger quantities of it to keep my energy up.”

“Right. Food, and lots of it. JARVIS?”

“Do you have a preference, sir?”

“Pizza. Do you like pizza, Loki?”

“I'm not familiar with this food.”

“Ohhh boy.” He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “JARVIS, pizza. Hmm. Ten boxes – two cheese, two pepperoni, two sausage, and four with everything on it. Find us a good delivery place that wouldn’t have SHIELD trailing them to get in. Tip them well.”

“Yes, sir. I'll place the order immediately.”

“Ten? Isn't that a bit excessive?”  
“Nah. I'm hungry, and you said that you need to eat more than the average human. If we don't eat it all today, it will keep. And if not, it really doesn't matter. I have the money to blow.”

“Right. Shall we discuss business while we wait for the food to arrive?”

“No! One must never discuss business on an empty stomach. It's bad form!”

“Stark, you're stalling.”

He clutched a hand to his chest dramatically. “I'm wounded. And seriously, call me Tony.”

“Why ever would I do that?”

“I call you Loki, don't I?”

“By no invitation of mine.”

“What do you wanted to be called, then?”

“Master, or My Lord will do.”

“Yeah, not happening. I'll work with you, and I'll consider you an equal, but I will _never_ bow to anyone ever again.” He thought for a moment. “Except, if you're lucky, in the bedroom.”

Loki gaped at him. “Stark, sometimes, I truly do not know if you speak in jest.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. What do I have to do?”

His grin was shark-like. “Dangerous question.”

“We're dangerous men,” he quipped.

“That we are. Think of it like this, if you'd rather. Using your surname is not merely a formality – it's a sign of respect. And I do respect you, Stark, on some level. I certainly respect your intellect and ingenuity. This place you've got is...frankly, magnificent. I admit that I don't know too much about the technology of this planet, but I'm fairly certain that the world outside this building has nowhere near the level of advancement that you do. That's impressive.”

“Thanks.” He grinned. “Made it all myself.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Stark legacy.”

“That doesn't answer the question. You are not your family.”

“Sometimes you are.”

“No. I refuse to believe that. You are not. So, why do you do it? Do you enjoy your work?”

“Yeah, I do, most of the time. There are times when I hate it and I want to throw everything out the windows. Hell, sometimes I do that. It's a quirk. One of many of mine. I think I might be a bit manic. JARVIS, when did I sleep last?”

“Four days ago, sir. Also, the pizza should arrive promptly.”

“Ah, good, good. The pizza, that is. Not the lack of sleep. That's probably not good. I'm not really sure anymore. Do gods sleep?”

“Yes, we do.”

“As much as we do?”

“No. About half as much, but it's made up for in the amount that we have to eat.”

“Right, right. I'll bet you have super metabolism.”

“Sir, the pizza has arrived.”

“Thanks, JARV. Let him in on the bottom floor and have someone there pay him – generous tip, remember, as if you'd forget, but don't let him up any farther. And as soon as he's gone, do a thorough sweep for bugs. I know that you found a good place that SHIELD likely hadn't infiltrated, but I know those sneaky bastards and I won't stand for bugs in my house, even in the public sectors. Privacy is important!”

“Says the man who hacks SHIELD for fun.” Loki was curious about Stark's reaction to knowing that Loki had that information.

“They deserve it. Besides, _my_ privacy is important.” He glanced over. “And yours, as well.”

“You aren't concerned that I know of your unsavory habits?”

“No. JARVIS told you, yeah? He wouldn't have told you anything that I hadn't authorized. He's my creation, and he's damn good.”

“You flatter me, sir.”

“It's not flattery if it's true, doll.”

“Stark, are you flirting with your computer?”

“He's not a computer! He's an AI! And my fucking name is Tony.”

“You waste your breath.”

“Yeah, I'm good at that. JARVIS, pizza?”

“Downstairs, sir. Shall I have it sent up?”

“Yeah, do that. Bugs?”

“None. I will have one of the specialized agents do a personal check just in case.”

“Good man. Loki, you are going to _love_ pizza. It's one of Earth- Midgard's best delicacies. The breakfast of champions. Actually, I think that might be Wheaties, but those things are nasty. So now, by my decree, it is pizza.”

Loki stared. This was the man that had created this tower and its computers? This was the man whose intellect he had so praised?

“Hey. I know what you're thinking, and don't give me that look. I really am a genius. Super smart. It just doesn't seem like it right now because everything is fucking spinning. I've been working nonstop, and as you heard JARVIS say, I haven't eaten or slept recently. I need to eat this, take a shower, then get some rest. Then, I'll seem a bit more sane.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is. Pizza?”

The elevator doors had opened, and the two men brought the boxes over to the table. Tony grabbed a couple of plates from the nearest cabinet and sat them on the table, one in front of each of them.

“Dig in. Eat as much as you like. I got most of this for you. I promise, you'll love it.”

Loki opened the box and sniffed hesitantly at the contents. He watched Tony eat a piece, then gave in and ate one himself.

“How is it?”

“It is...tolerable.”

“Hah! Told you you'd love it.”

He glared, but didn't speak farther. They both ate several more pieces, going through a few of the boxes before they were finished.  

“Ah, that hit the spot. Now, shower and bed.”

“Stark, I came up here to talk.” He was beginning to reach his limit of irritation.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I'll be better company and a far better strategist after I've rested. Trust me on that. And we have all the time in the world. Literally. The world is just waiting on us, baby. So you can wait another day while I sleep.”

“And while you sleep...will it be acceptable for me to eat more of this mortal delicacy?”

He bit out a laugh. “Yeah, eat as much as you want. Any other food, or drinks that you may want, JARVIS will point out to you. Just ask him. Though, since you got information out of him earlier, I'm guessing you've met him.”n

“Yes. We're acquainted.”

“Good, good. Now, I'm going to bed. We'll discuss this for real tomorrow, yeah? We can meet back here for breakfast.”

“If we must.”

“Yeah, we must. Try to get some rest. Night!” He waved over his shoulder as he entered the elevator, leaving the god sitting alone at the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it has taken me so long to update because I started a new fic. I know, but it was calling to me! It's a FrostIron dom/sub AU. Feel free to go check it out at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/639597/chapters/1159371
> 
> Please leave your comments!


	7. When Memories are Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki takes a walk, then plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I'm tired of messing with it, so here you go.

 Loki woke with the dawn, a habit he had become accustomed to in Asgard. The sunlight filtered only dimly through his window, a courtesy of Stark's technology, but his body was conditioned to wake at this time, and despite the darkness of the room, he found himself blinking up at the ceiling.

“JARVIS, is Stark awake yet?”

“Good morning, Mr. Laufeyson. Master Stark is not yet awake. He will likely sleep for several more hours, until noon at least.”

“Are all mortals this utterly lazy?”

“No, sir. Master Stark keeps odd hours, even by human standards.”

“He's somewhat of an outcast, then. Adored to his face, but a target is painted as soon as his back is turned.”

JARVIS didn't reply.

Loki couldn't help drawing the parallels to himself; high in the public view, a prince, yet so fundamentally different from his peers. The resemblance to Stark, though unpleasant to consider, was interesting, and quite possibly relevant to understanding the man's motives.

He sat up, running a tired hand through his hair before making his way to the shower. The hot water felt good against his skin, helping to soothe muscles that were nearly always tense. By the time he stepped out and dried off, he was as relaxed as he was going to get.

“JARVIS, what time is it?”

“It is 7 o' clock, sir.”

“Thank you. I'm going out for a while. I should be back before Tony wakes. If not, and he inquires about me, please inform him that I will return shortly.”

“Of course, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He returned to the bedroom and stood in front of the full-body mirror on the wall. He planned to go out into the city and he knew that he was likely to be recognized in his current form. He was not in the mood for a confrontation, or even to be noticed at all, so he planned to make use of his ability to shape-shift. He changed his form to that of a nondescript middle-aged business and nodded at his changed reflection before leaving the tower for a walk. He allowed himself to pontificate as he walked.

He had come to Midgard because he was bored (scared). After he had fallen (and failedfailedfailed to die), he had wandered through the nine realms and beyond. He had floated in the void (too long, too cold) and seen all the things there (alive, skittering, _mad_ ) and learned that one truth, that one thing that everyone, everyone ran from – nothing matters at all. It never left him now. It was enough to drive anyone to madness (hysteria.pain.violence. _fear_ ). It had been a long time since then. (How long? He didn't know, couldn't know. Never long enough.) Everyone ran from the knowledge, and some would say that here, on this planet, he was still running.

But no. A liar he may be, but he never lied to _himself_. Deception was an art, and in order to lie (well), one had to know (understand) the objective truth, especially about oneself. He had had hundreds of years to learn things about himself – his thoughts, his feelings, his character traits, and his tendencies in various situations. And this? This wasn't running. This was reacting. Nothing matters at all. He could not make his actions, his _life_ matter. But he could make himself remembered. He could make himself _legendary._ And he would.

He was known, sure, around the universe, even to the near-sighted mortals. Loki. Loptr. Slyson, Liesmith, Silvertongue. Chaos-bringer, World-breaker. So many names and titles. But this would be different. _Everyone_ would know his name. They would be on their knees. They would _worship_ him. And if he had to stand beside Tony Stark to get to that point, he thought that that would be acceptable. The man was not at his level, not a god, but he was sharp, brilliant, _powerful_. He wasn't a god, but maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of standing with one.

 

 

When he finally shook himself out of his musings, he was near the edge of town and the sun was high in the sky. Stark owed him an important conversation and it was time for him to head back. He briefly considered walking back the way he had come, but Stark's machine had said the man would be awake by noon, and if he walked, he would be late. That was not something he planned to do, as this talk was too important to be put off any longer than necessary. In the end, he decided that teleportation would be the most efficient way to return to the tower. Looking around to make sure no mortals were in the area, he reached into himself to his power and moved himself back to his floor in Stark Tower.

“Welcome back, Mr. Laufeyson”, JARVIS immediately intoned.

He took a moment to get his bearings before responding – teleportation, while convenient, did leave one a bit off kilter for a bit afterward. “Thank you. Is Stark awake yet?”

“Yes, sir. He is in the main kitchen, and has asked me to inform you that he has made a large breakfast for you.”

He nodded. “Good. I do find myself rather hungry.”

He arrived upstairs to the kitchen to find Stark already masticating loudly. He opened his mouth, still full of food. “Loki. Morning. Come, sit.” He gestured to the seat across from him with his fork, eggs speared on its end.

The god raised an eyebrow but obliged and sat down. He looked down at the plate full of food on the table in front of him – he recognized most of the food there from his prior time on Midgard. He could see eggs, bacon, sausage, and a couple of other things he wasn't familiar with. There was also an orange drink in a tall glass by the plate. Stark was eating the same foods, so he assumed that they were safe. Mortal poisons wouldn't kill him, anyway. They may make him a bit sick or pained, but they wouldn't be fatal, and he could easily get his revenge if that were the case. He picked up his fork and began picking at the food on his plate. He realized that it was good, and he was hungry, so he began to eat faster.

Stark laughed at him, and Loki glared. “Hey, hey.” He raised his hands placatingly. “I didn't mean to offend you, your Highness.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Stark, do you have any idea how many ways I have of killing you without even leaving my seat?”

“Probably a lot.” He continued eating.

“Uh-huh. You seem incredibly intimidated.”

“Yep. Finish your breakfast. You wanted to talk, yeah?”

“Yes, I did.”

They both finished their food quickly, and Loki set his fork down and watched the other man expectantly.

“Let's go to the sitting room. It's more comfortable.”

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

Stark stood and walked to the elevator, and Loki followed. They went up several floors and the doors opened to a floor with several couches, a few chairs, a large television set, and of course, a bar.

“Want a drink?”

“No thank you, Stark. This is a business matter, and it would be prudent for the both of us to remain sober for its duration.”

“Spoilsport. No one should ever be sober if they can help it.”

Loki ignored the comment and sat on the nearest sofa. Tony made himself a drink before taking a seat on a chair opposite him.

“So. Stark. Talk to me about this plan of yours.”

He sipped at his drink. “What do you want to know?”

“What is it you hope to gain? What's your end objective?”

“I want power. I want the dick heads in power right now to _burn._ I want to rule this world, and every pathetic human being on it.”

“Big words from one who called himself a hero not so long ago.”

He took a bigger gulp from his glass. “Things have changed since then. And I wasn't a hero. Not always. Not ever, really. I have always been above these people. I tried to be benevolent. I tried to help them. They gave me betrayal in return. So no more. If this is where kindness gets me, then fuck them, I'm going to show them exactly who they just fucking crossed.”

He sat silently for a few minutes, considering that before he asked his next question. “Why do you want to work with me?”

“Because you have power. Because you didn't try as hard as you could have to take over this world, and I think you could do it. Because you're above these ants, just as I am. Because between the two of us, we can do this.”

He mulled over those words for a long while, searching for any sign of a lie in them. No matter how he looked at it, he found none. “Yes, we can.”

Tony smiled ferally. “Good. Good. So, what now? Did you have a plan, or should I make one? I'm fine as a tactician, but I thought that as the more...ah...traveled of the two of us you may have some more unique ideas?”

“You said that there are people on this planet who would fight in your army. I can say the same of people throughout the universe. It would only take a few calls and visits to amass an army large enough to wipe out this entire planet with no survivors. But that isn't quite what we want. There's no point in ruling a realm if there's no one left to rule. That being so, we'll have to be more selective with our forces – we can't rely on pure power. We have to plan this intelligently.”

“Intelligence is something I have in spades, and I suspect that you do, as well.”

“It's been said, yes.”

“Then we don't have a problem?”

“No, we don't.” The god rose, and began walking toward the elevator to take him back down to his floor. “I'll start making calls, then.”

“Yeah. Me too.”


End file.
